Don't Ignore Signs of Things to Come
by Tama Anpan
Summary: "Senpai-kōhai is a lifelong bound…" Rated for language and themes.


**Disclaimer: Gintama belongs to Sorachi Hideaki**

**_This story will have three chapters. It's a prequel of 'Mixed-Up' but can be read independently. _**

**_I'll correct the grammatical mistakes as much as I can. Thanks for reading..._**

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_Kenjutsu: schools of Japanese swordsmanship_

_Tennen Rishin-ryū: School of martial art practiced by many members of the Shinsengumi_

_Shunga: Erotic art, here Ukiyo-e (Japanese woodblock print)_

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**Don't ignore signs of things to come…they're like sharp boomerangs flying back to cut your head off**

* * *

He was strolling right and left, without a clear direction, zigzagging and walking along the walls of the corridor leading to the garden, and he firmly tightened his obi around his waist and the katana for the hundredth time since they arrived here, that was a vain attempt at shaking off lethargy. But soon he found himself at the limit of his patience and went straight to the enclosed yard that bathed in harsh rays of light. The boy slid against the frame of the wide open shoji, allowing the sun to burn his face and he could feel the sweat running down his temple, his nape was already wet too, the droplets slowly descending along his neck, drowning somewhere between his back and the fabric of his kimono. The formal attire was killing him, sticking against his skin but he still asked for more, settling on the most scorching place of the Matsudaira residence. A challenge against nature. His lips curved disdainfully; it was all bullshit, but his obstinacy was unlimited and with the stifling air everywhere, the idea of fighting fire with fire was the challenge he wanted. Until his body would give up.

The smell came before everything else, that familiar odor he couldn't stand due to ten thousand and hundred reasons the boy was too impatient to count, or recount for that matter; because coming to Edo meant to be occupied, body and mind, and only one week there and he had found out he could let days pass without thinking about her and that was the only thing he ever felt guilty about in his entire life.

That was two years ago.

He squeezed his eyes shut, "Are you even allowed to smoke here?"

Hijikata was approaching and even if Sougo could only hear the leisurely steps, he knew the man was also bored out of his mind. The way he walked, the way he 'Tch'-ed, the way his restlessness radiated from him. And it sucked to think they actually had something in common, right here, right now; but Kondo-san insisted for them to be here and the underlings complied. He heard Hijikata sigh, without a reply, and walking past him, doing whatever he was doing which was in reality sulk. The old geezer's house was huge but in no need of protection and not huge enough for country bumpkin samurais and their insatiable urges to fight. This was another thing they had in common. But as soon as the young Vice-Commander changed pace and disappeared behind a corner, Sougo forgot about him. Hijikata wasn't someone worth his attention.

A laugh erupted from the far end of the house and he knew at least his mentor was having a good time. That laugh strangely echoed in his mind long after it vanished, while the minutes passed with nothing remarkable occurring except the noises of cicadas and that terrible sensation of spontaneous combustion growing inside him. With his face dripping with sweat now, glowing red, the more he stayed immobile like this under that deadly star, the more he could taste it. Rot and nausea. He was sitting there like a corpse waiting decomposition, knowing the last stage was putrefaction, and wondering if those corpses buried in Edo's communal grave had reached that part yet. Corpses of men he killed.

There was another laughter that didn't come from his messed up head and it was a salvation, he snapped open his eyelids, standing abruptly but nearly collapsed right after. He grabbed the burning wood of the door frame, it hurt his palm but he hold tighter nonetheless and pushed himself further under the shelter that the house offered, desperately in search for a second breath and an air conditioner.

He ended up in the old geezer library. How? He didn't actually know. As soon as he closed behind him he sat on the ground, head against the door, ready to doze off. His head was spinning and he was thirsty, but more than that he was spent. As if this illness was finally breaking through, on the day he had nothing to do but think. Fitting.

He slept. When he woke up the clock indicated than only ten minutes had passed, and it was enough to get his brain to function again. He stood up, watching the books in front of him, took one or two in his hand just for the sake of it. The room was cooled and even if it was refreshing, the weird sensation in his stomach hadn't faltered. Sougo couldn't understand how Kondo-san could drink alcohol with such a heat outside.

Another book landed in his hands, with a simple title, _Bushidō. _That would occupy him for a while. Sometimes Sougo wondered what would his life have been had he not drop out of school. He was getting the minimum education required though, mostly due to Kondo-san's insistence. His mentor still felt guilty, time to time, about leading him on a path of violence, but he couldn't give a shit about school or socializing; he was a swordsman, nothing more, nothing less and a ruthless one at it.

Okita knew the Commander had freaked out last month, like everyone else and even if he was adulated by Kamiyama, he could see in the men's eyes the new him, his image reflecting like a mirror. At barely sixteen he had killed more people than all the new recruits combined and all of them were older than him by at least three years. He also knew that was something normal people would think over; the killings. That the dead could torment his dreams and should. But he felt nothing of that sort. He felt nothing about being randomly gifted and able to end other people lives so easily and quickly. He only had felt dread about being one of the two survivors of the bloody raid in that inn. A defining moment in his young career and reputation. But that feeling, dread, was human, he was still human. Because for all his indifference and lack of empathy towards others, except two notable exceptions, the sight of so many Shinsengumi dead men wasn't something he wanted to see ever again. Because corpses of good people he knew were also in the process of decomposition at this moment, the only difference with the others was that they had had decent funerals. The rest was just a blur; good guys, bad guys…nothing was clear anymore, it never was. And Sougo never cared anyway; it was only Shinsengumi dead bushis and Joui dead bushis.

Remarkably simple and yet so complicated.

He turned the pages slowly: Katana, Dojo masters, Kenjutsu schools. Of course Tennen Rishin-ryū wasn't there, not old enough and despised in the city...He sighed. It didn't work, the reading stuff, and his mind was back on something he should think about. After that event, the only man who didn't look at him with apprehension, fear, suspicion or worry was Hijikata. Probably because the bastard had a mind as screwed up as him and was someone who lived only by the sword and an unbreakable friendship to another man. That big softy Commander drove them together, sealing a pact for life with that organization; a man that was now earnestly drinking with his sicko superior, in this empty house, few meters away from him. Even someone like Matsudaira had fallen for Kondo-san's kindness. Sougo sneered to himself, Hijikata wasn't kind, he was a heartless bastard.

A new page and his eyes fell on a surprising chapter..._Wakashudō_. The page contained pictures of the period before the Amanto invasion. Who said this day should be predictably boring? And who could imagine the old geezer had that sort interest?

Sougo repressed a slight surprised at first because these were some explicit shungas in an overly outdated and boring dusty history book. He read the paragraph, not that he was particularly interested, but because that stupidly strange custom had always astonished him. And even most stupid was why the sex had to end when the younger came of age? That was some fucked up pedophile rule. He was from a samurai family and heard about everything related to them in his childhood. Of course this was something his sister never told him about, he learned from men at the dojo and most of them were appalled by it. Truth be told, the Amanto changed the country's social structure a lot, banning ancient customs and setting new ones. Most of the banishing concerned samurai and their way of life. Sougo only knew life under foreign rule and he never had witnessed that sort of relationship between two men. Homosexuality between samurai wasn't taboo, it just wasn't discussed.

He read further, apparently shudō was meant to be more than sex, but all he could gather from that book was that it meant more rules and more again...stupid hierarchic rules. Sougo rolled his eyes, surely Fukuchou would like that sort of stuff...

The door slid open. Well, speaking of the devil. The boy glared at him, Hijikata was drenched in sweat and obviously had been seeking for an AC too. He could have gone drinking sake with Kondo-san and the big chief, but that was something that uptight prick couldn't let happen. Someone had to be the responsible guy.

"Wanna try going back from where you came from? I wouldn't mind. Really."

Hijikata glared back and his only answer was to slid the door behind him. Sougo lowered his head, ignoring him, and his eyes fell back on the page about samurai and their lewd pastime. He could hide the book, turn the page, close it, anything; and Hijikata wasn't even paying attention, his blue eyes scanning the bookshelves, still bored, he was just walking in the room, wishing he weren't here. Sougo observed him and the thought of launching an attack crossed his mind, but his body couldn't keep up, so he settled for that other thing. It was so easy to hate that arrogant ass. The hate wasn't mutual, he knew that much, that was a one sided feeling and the boy nurtured it days after days, but Hijikata wasn't keen to improve their awful relationship either. He seemed not to care about what Sougo thought of him, not one bit...

Somehow, the young Captain felt suddenly irritated...Hijikata didn't care either about hurting his sister over and over again, no matter if she didn't know. That's right; the bastard hadn't shied away when the others dragged him along to Yoshiwara on their first day in the capital. After that Hijikata went there often and gained a reputation among prostitutes, or so said the morons at the barracks. He wasn't sure about the veracity of that rumor but it certainly didn't matter if these days Hijikata rarely indulged in women anymore.

Sougo dropped the book on the table, carefully ensuring it would stay opened on that particular page, and finally the other deigned a glance. He crossed his arms and leaned against the bookcase, "Don't you think that's disgusting?"

So here they were, Hijikata staring at the pictures, Okita staring at him.

"Why should I?"

_Why? Indeed_...And why he didn't either? Why was it the opposite actually? He cut that train of thought immediately, like he always did, not even realizing doing so. Provocation was his choice, "Say Hijikata-san...between us, how would that be? I'm your senpai, right? And younger. How does that fit into the wakashu-nenja rule?"

"_You_ are disgusting."

"Senpai-kōhai is a lifelong bound, I demand respect."

"You ain't gettin' any from me, cheeky brat."

"Hmm...Speaking of respect...how do they call you these days...? _Oni_...? _Oni no Fukuchou_."

"Tch!" Hijikata shook his head smugly, "I'm proud of that name…"

"As I thought, a narcissist. Resign please."

"Shut up. And look who's talk, prince of planet S."

"I see…sexual frustration _does_ make you bitter."

Hijikata snorted and then retorted with contempt, "You sure must know a lot about that."

Okita padded on his scabbard, "Want me to end your boredom?"

"Go hang yourself."

"Hijikata-saan...next time you stick your thing in one of Yoshiwara many holes, be sure to catch syphilis...that might improve your looks."

The other widen his glare, "You piece of trash!" But then he stopped for a moment, staring right through him, "You know...sadists usually don't have nice endings. They piss off too many people."

If this was an attempt to broach the subject of what happened a month earlier, it was totally unsubtle and totally none of his fucking business. That man had the capacity to piss _him_ off like no other human being on earth but Sougo would rather eat shit than showing it and, in any case, it was so easy to sound and act unaffected. "I don't care as long as my fantasy comes true: you lying dead before my throne and the goddess of war at my side."

Hijikata raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"You just wait. Ten years from now, when Kondo-san marries and retires, you're gonna cry for mercy, kneeling and begging...Mah...what an enjoyable sight...I can't wait…"

"That conversation has derailed so much, just die."

"No, you die first. Make it grandiose with blood everywhere; you know how much I love horror movies."

The other only sighed and for the first time today Sougo noticed that he wasn't pissed like usual; Hijikata whole body was relaxed and that surprised him, it was abnormal. There was a common misconception that the Vice-Commander was always, always tensed, at only twenty two no less. But Sougo knew the moments when he wasn't; usually right after a fight when the adrenaline rush went off, or when Kondo-san was happy, or when he was drunk, or when Mitsuba didn't realize she was being observed from the distance by that asshole heartless bastard.

That bastard that was again staring at him, "Can you take it? The pressure."

_There, there_...Prying in other people lives again, thinking there was actually something to talk about, even Kondo-san had received the cold shoulder after one last annoying _'Sougo, are you alright?'_

"Hijikata-san, what's wrong with you? You know perfectly well killing does nothing to me."

"I'm not talking about that." The young man was searching in his sleeve for smoke and lighter, "Are you ready to keep your head cool? From now on people will loath us and Kondo-san is going to take all the crap on his shoulders...Can you take _that_ pressure?"

"Who do you think I am?"

He lit his cigarette, gone was his self-restrain of not smoking in the Superintendent summer house, "Our best weapon."

Sougo smirked slightly, as much he hated that man this was a subject they would never disagree over, "Don't ask stupid questions."

He couldn't feel guilt about what happened last month, but he had felt sick over what problems the killings would cause to the Commander. And Hijkata just twisted his stomach enough for him to want to throw up. Or maybe it was only the heat after all? He wasn't worried about the future but certainly the bastard was right on that; Kondo-san had a lot of shit to deal with after and the reason they were here was indubitably related to the consequences of the Rokkaku inn.

Sougo felt suddenly dizzy, thirsty and for half a second thought of telling the truth about that not innocent inn-keeper he didn't kill. He would, without a doubt, have wounded him, but not killed him; Sougo was one hundred percent certain of that and yet it never occurred to him to blame his subordinate. It hadn't been a mistake, not in those circumstances, but he knew _he_ wouldn't have killed that man…and he wanted someone to know about that fact…just to ease the weight…

"Oi..."

The pressure was heavy...The pressure of not disappointing his Commander.

"Sougo?"

The deep voice reached his brain, he raised his head and faced a questioning stare and that was enough to shake away that momentary stupid idea; he had made Kamiyama swear on his knees, there was no way anyone else should know.

Hijikata was observing with an expression that could easily be mistaken as concern, but Okita knew better: Hijikata couldn't care less...he couldn't...and yet he lifted a hand, "You don't look so good..."

Of course he didn't, walking corpses usually don't. Internal sickness surely must have been visible on the outside too and simply because it was a seldom occurrence concerning the young captain, it was strikingly obvious whenever he was ill. The intention was to touch his forehead, but before the palm could make contact with the skin, Hijikata's hand froze; the familiar _click _of a katana being unsheathed annihilated the gesture. The young man retracted his hand slowly but not without scrutinizing Okita's imperturbable face. What Hijikata couldn't see though, was how rigid the fingers were clutched around the scabbard, he didn't realize either that despite everything Sougo had been on the verge to let him see a side of him he hid from everyone else, including the only two people in the universe he respected.

The Vice-Commander slid his hands under his sleeves, his voice cold as ice and the eyes mocking, "As you wish, your highness..." And he squeezed his smoke between clenched teeth, while slowly turning on his heels and leaving the room.

Sougo's irritation grew to the next level along with an acute sense of relief; but he didn't care, or wouldn't allow his mind to ask itself about what just happened. The heat was still horrendous even in that room, the heat in his head, and he still felt so sick…Sick enough to rush to the bathroom and puke breakfast, dinner and endless bile like he hadn't done since he was nine years old.

And this time Mitsuba wouldn't come to cool down his feverish skin with her soft, motherly hand.


End file.
